The Starship of the Seven Windows
by Qoheleth
Summary: Dedicated to anyone else who has had the misfortune to require a new computer during the past year. And they though the Iconian probe was bad...


**Disclaimer: **_Star Trek_ belongs to Gene Roddenberry, may he live long and prosper. Windows 7 (and, I believe, the above icon thereof) belongs to Bill Gates, may he abort, retry, and fail.

* * *

"O'Brien to bridge," came the rich brogue of the _Enterprise-F_'s transporter chief over the comm link.

"Go ahead, Chief," said Captain Picard, tapping his communicator badge.

"I've got the away team all set to beam down, Captain," said O'Brien, "but there's something wonky going on with the transporter."

"Describe."

"Well, when I try to activate the beam, the computer says… well, here, let me play it back for you."

The next moment, the gravelly voice of the _Enterprise-F_'s computer system (which Picard loathed with a passion, but Data had insisted that "an unpleasing interface is sometimes the price of progress, Captain") could be heard on the bridge saying, "Do you wish to allow this system to make changes to the _Enterprise-F_?"

"Yes, I do," said O'Brien's voice.

There was a moment's silence; then the computer said, "Error. The server name or address cannot be resolved. It will not be possible to install Transporter Package BMUS-263 on this vessel."

Picard sat bolt upright. "What does that mean?" he demanded.

"Well, I think it means that the new _Enterprise_ doesn't have a transporter beam," said O'Brien. "I never heard of such a thing before, but I can't make out what else it might mean."

Picard put a hand to his temple. "Have the away team report to Shuttle Bay 3," he said. "And, someone, find me Commander Data."

* * *

Data arrived at the bridge some three minutes later. "You summoned me, Captain?" he inquired.

"Yes, Mr. Data," said Picard. "Chief O'Brien informs me that our new ship doesn't recognize its own transporter equipment. You don't happen to know anything about that, do you?"

Data cocked his head in surprise. "Did not Commander LaForge inform you, sir?" he said.

"Inform me of what?" said Picard, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"After the _Enterprise-F _left its dry-dock station on Fenetres VII," said Data, "we discovered that many of the standard systems that came pre-installed on previous series of _Galaxy_-class starships had to be installed separately on the new model. Since the nearest starship-hardware outlet is several hundred light-years away, we attempted to use the old equipment left over from the _Enterprise-E_, with varying results."

"How do you mean, varying results?" said Picard.

"The intercom, holodeck, and weapons systems are working with reasonable efficiency," said Data. "However, the transporter is still presenting some problems, as are the replicators, shields, and Sickbay systems. We hope to…"

"Shields?" Picard repeated, aghast. "Sickbay systems? Mr. Data, the _Enterprise_'s primary mission is to explore new worlds – to venture into unknown and potentially hostile regions of space. We cannot afford to be without basic protection and medical resources."

"I appreciate that, Captain," said Data, "as does Commander LaForge. There is, however, little we can do at this stage."

"Why don't we just turn around, head back to Fenetres VII, and exchange this ship for an older model?" Picard suggested. "I'm sure I could explain the delay to Starfleet."

"That would be pointless, Captain," said Data. "No older model of _Galaxy_-class starship is in circulation any longer. All the major distributors have switched over exclusively to this model."

Picard stared at him. "Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Data," he said, "that the only kind of starship it is currently possible to procure is this raspy-voiced, dysfunctional pile of flotsam?"

"Yes, Captain," said Data. "Unless, of course, we should happen to find an abandoned starship of an older model floating in the void."

Picard ran a weary hand over his bald pate. "All right, Mr. Data," he said. "Just tell me this. What is so impressive about this particular model of starship, that it inspired otherwise sensible individuals to shift over to it as Starfleet's sole obtainable mode of interstellar travel?"

Data considered. "The inter-systemic security is vastly stronger," he offered. "It will no longer be possible for a holodeck program to take control of the ship, as happened so memorably on the _Enterprise-D_."

Picard opened his mouth, possibly to say that he would gladly take his chances with an occasional Moriarty if it meant that he could be sure of decent medical attention. He was interrupted, however, by a sudden, sharp cry from Ensign MacKnight. "Captain!"

Picard glanced up at the viewscreen. There, looming not five minutes' maximum-impulse flight from the _Enterprise_, was the unmistakable crab-like form of a Ferengi warship.

All thoughts of technical disputes were instantly banished from his mind. "Go to red alert!" he shouted. "Shields…" He caught himself, and sighed. "Lieutenant Worf, attempt to hail the Ferengi vessel."

Worf made a few mystic gestures over his communications console. "Hailing frequencies open, sir," he said.

"Onscreen," said Picard.

The viewscreen flickered, and the leering face of a Ferengi commander appeared. "Well, well, Captain," he said. "Having some difficulties with your shields, are you?"

Picard frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh, we know all about your new starship model," said the Ferengi commander, barely able to keep the glee from his voice. "When our operative Bilgatz sold the design to your Federation, we never dreamed it would pay off so quickly."

Picard gave Data a look, and made a "kill" gesture to Worf. The Ferengi captain vanished from the screen, and Picard turned to his second officer. "Mr. Data," he said, "get those systems back online. I don't care how you do it, rewrite the entire ship's software if you have to, but I want this ship functioning the way our old one used to."

"Aye, sir," said Data, and turned to leave the bridge.

"And Data," Picard called after him, "the next time someone tells you something is a 'full upgrade', make sure that means that it's actually an improvement."


End file.
